


eating habits

by justlikeswitchblades



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Confessions, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Post-Season/Series 01, vaguely canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:35:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22312600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeswitchblades/pseuds/justlikeswitchblades
Summary: "Martin!" Jon growls a disgruntled noise, frantically rearranging the documents on his desk. His head snaps up, fire blazing in his eyes. "I said I would eat later, and it's--"He lifts his wrist to fix his gaze upon his watch's face, and he slowly deflates. "Nearly half past three. Huh."
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 3
Kudos: 82





	eating habits

**Author's Note:**

> post season 1, with a smidge of early season 2 spoilers - meant to take place a little while after MAG 56 but before the end of season 2
> 
> heads up: mentions disordered eating but not intended in an ED way

“Hey, Jon?" 

Martin pops his head through the semi-open doorway of Jon's office; Jon is leaning over his desk, stooped like he had meant to sit down, but had gotten distracted before reaching his chair. His bangs, until recently, had usually been neatly swept back with just enough pomade. Today they've fallen over his forehead, almost obscuring the way his eyebrows knit together when he's deep in concentration. Martin waits a beat; he raps a knock on the darkly-stained door. Jon glances up.

"Yes, Martin?"

"Oh, just wanted to let you know I was stepping out for lunch. Can I grab you something?”

“Mm--no thank you," Jon answers, voice sounding distant. Martin inhales silently, holding his breath in his chest. He had been expecting this answer.

“You sure? Not even a tea?” Martin tries not to wince at how meek his voice sounds when it comes out of his mouth; maybe he had just thought it sounded confident when he rehearsed it under his breath in the toilet earlier.

"Not now, _Martin_ ," Jon emphasizes his name in his usual mincing way, and Martin makes a face at _that_.

"A nip of fresh air might do you some good," Martin bites back, quiet but not quite under his breath as he turns on his heel. He shoves his earbuds in before he has a chance to hear Jon's reaction.

"I know you usually like egg salad sandwiches," Martin huffs, stomping back into Jon's office twenty minutes later. "But they were all out, so I figured a regular salad would do you some good." He deposits the wide plastic bowl of greens and other veggies with a thump atop Jon's desk, and takes a step back, frowning at him. "I won't leave till you get up to eat it in the break room."

"Martin!" Jon growls a disgruntled noise, frantically picking up the bowl and rearranging the documents underneath it, not that there was much neatness to them beforehand. His head snaps up, fire blazing in his eyes. "I said I would eat later, and it's--"

He lifts his wrist to fix his gaze upon his watch's face and he slowly deflates, mellowing, his eyes and voice going soft. "Nearly half past three. Huh."

"No more ‘I need to finish my research’," Martin begins in a stem tone. "No more ‘I’ll eat later’. You said that yesterday, and the day before, and last week, and--" He throws his hands up in frustration, ginger curls bouncing, the gesture muted if only due to the traveler cup in his hand. "You need to take care of yourself, Jon! It’s only one hour--hell, you’re only paid for half of it! If it weren’t for the worms, even Tim would--” Martin falters for a moment. “Even Tim would’ve bothered to buy you something if you were being this stubborn.”

"I shouldn't have said that about Tim," Martin starts to walk his words back a moment later. It’s not like he’s dead or anything--not that depression and probable suicidal ideation are any better, but--”

“I don’t blame him for it,” Jon remarks, wrinkling his nose with a glance towards the pimpling of scars on his forearm, literal worm holes littered across his skin. “But," He concedes with a sigh. "You're right. I'm sorry, Martin.”

"I get where it comes from--I'm the one who lived in the Institute for weeks on end because of worms after all," Martin adds, the self-depreciation too reflexive for him to suppress. It makes his gut sink, but he stands his ground. "But it hurt, Jon. It hurts to think that you don't trust us."

" _Didn't_ trust you, Martin," Jon corrects, though he isn't surprised to see doubt flicker in Martin's eyes. "You, me, Tim, Sasha--don't know we didn't have a representative of HR there, but we all had that group meeting with Elias, and I won't be watching any of you anymore. I regret being that desperate in the first place."

"Well, I don't know if it'll help abate your paranoia at all, but I might as well come clean with the rest of it--I fancied you quite a bit up until recently," Martin ducks his head shyly when he admits it, unable to keep himself from smiling, missing the way Jon tenses during right before his reveal. His face falls shortly after though, sighing softly, and Jon feels a genuine stab of guilt then.

"Martin," Jon begins after a pause, "I'm no shining example of workplace ethics, but I don't think it's a great idea if--"

"No, it was irrational from the start. I mean, when I was moved here from Research, you introduced yourself as my new boss, and you were a bit snippy, but gosh were you handsome. I saw you more and more often when I moved in, and you always seemed to brighten a little bit when I already had the kettle on in the mornings, and it was just a nice distraction, y'know, from the looming threat of worms, so I couldn't help…" Jon watches as Martin's voice rises brightly as he talks about him, and he knows he doesn't deserve attention like this.

"Martin, I don't need an explanation, or for you to write things off--I mean, thank you, even?"

"For what?"

"For being honest," Jon gives a clipped laugh. "And for thinking I'm handsome."

"Some people are into that sort of disheveled look." Martin coughs, his cheeks ruddy but no longer from the autumn chill. "But I'm working on, um, no longer feeling that way." Martin pauses. "Like the worm phobia, it'll take some time." Jon nods along slowly, trying to be an encouraging supervisor for once.

"Take your time, Martin. Workplace dynamics aside, I just want to reiterate--making strong relationships here is _not_ a good idea."

"It's a bad idea because--and I know this will only make sound me more paranoid--but this job will traumatize us further at its best, or kill us at its worst. Now with the police getting involved, I don't have a good feeling about all this."

"Right. Yeah. God knows what they would have told my mum if I had been--" Martin takes a sharp breath, as if he hadn't considered the thought of dying in the Institute until now, or at least blocked it out after Prentiss attacked.

"Of course, that's only my opinion," Jon follows up after noticing Martin's expression, quickly trying to wipe the suspicion from his face. "Maybe everything--maybe everything will end up okay." The slight pitch in his voice betrays his offer, but Martin nods anyways.

"Maybe I have been in the Archives for too long today," Jon finally concedes, shrugging his jacket on and picking up the salad from his desk. He reaches absently for the cup in Martin's hand, stopping when Martin retracts his hand further back, his forehead wrinkling in confusion.

"I thought you said you were getting me a tea…?"

"I _had_ , but I wasn't feeling particularly generous at the time. Which I think was within reason."

"Yep," Jon agrees. "I'm perfectly capable of getting my own, and I should have in the first place."

"Exactly. Though, if I were feeling particularly spiteful, I would've given you this, considering it's a cafe au lait."

"Noted," Jon smiles at Martin's snide remark, who follows him on his walk to the break room. He suddenly stops on the stairwell landing, turning back to face Martin. "You've never listened to any of the tapes I recorded back when I first became Head Archivist, have you?"

"No, your notes were always pretty thorough--should I have?"

"No. I was an arse to you in some of them, and I shouldn't have been. I'm sorry."

"Oh." Martin raises his eyebrows. "Good to know."

"...You don't mind if I keep working on the follow-up from that Heathrow security agent, do you?" Martin asks, still standing in the same spot when Jon is halfway up the next flight of stairs. He lifts his cup bashfully. "Promise I won't spill this time." 

"Don't think I can say no," Jon gives a small smile back. "It's what I have assistants for, after all."


End file.
